Visit to a lost corner of a mountain world

Itinerary

• From Domaháza follow the Z sign along the Hangony stream valley.
• Before the sign indicating the nature reserve area, turn right and walk across an unmarked bike track to the other side of the valley, where we turn left to rejoin the marked hiking trail.
• On the Z sign, we climb up to the hill ridge.
• Turn left to the S sign, which we follow to the Palina forester's lodge.
• From the Palina forester's lodge, follow the P sign all the way to the Hangonyi Lake.

Detailed description of the route

On the land of apiaries and bee hunters

Domaháza was long known as "Hangonyfő", as it lies in the bend of the source valley of the eponymous stream. At the village boundary, grassy and wooded hill ridges rise, on which the series of erosion shapes of the soft sandstone surface are visible even from afar. Due to the poor, low-fertility soil unsuited for crop growing, animal husbandry was more common; the imaginary contour lines on the slopes are divided by horizontal pastures and small terraces created by the trampling of animals driven out onto the slopes, while vertically the surface is furrowed by ditches carved into the treeless surface that carry water after heavy rains.

Starting southward on the Z sign, we follow the street divided by the Hangony stream for a long stretch, and as the houses disappear, an unusual landscape unfolds: remnants of wooded pastures stretch along the wide, trough-shaped valley sides, the forest has retreated to hilltops in many places, while elsewhere it lines our path. The weak stream often disappears under the surface on the gently sloping terrain, its progression hindered by sediment deposits brought by intermittent side flows and causing it to disperse. From the sandy bike tracks neither water nor a stream bed can be seen, instead the wide, flat valley floor is lined with rushes, sometimes groves, forming visibly marshy terrain.

Elements of the open landscape include the hives of (migrant) beekeepers stationed at the base of the acacia groves, which have been part of the Hangony stream area for centuries. A unique (though known elsewhere) form of beekeeping has been recorded from Gömör and the Domaháza area: during honey hunting, insects were lured with various substances (including honey), several of which were caught in a special hand trap and then the individually released specimens were followed until they found the "bee tree." If the honey was not immediately taken, the hunter marked the colony, indicating that its sweet content was already theirs. Now small rows of hives and wheeled wagons facilitating animal movement line the corners around Domaháza.

Path through the green corridor

The valley lined with erosion ditches widens further ahead, with broad tussocks occupying the bottom. Juniper appears on the slopes here and there in small patches, which could spread in open areas due to the cessation of grazing—since livestock avoided the thorny vegetation, shepherds and herdsmen used to eradicate it. Although maps show the marked trail cutting straight across to the other side, after rainy periods one may wade through knee-deep mud in this swampy zone, so it is advisable to turn right before the sign marking the protected area onto a dirt road that crosses the stream. Under the trees, we turn onto another bike track and by keeping left return to the Z sign. Faded, sparse pictograms lead uphill through mixed forest on a moderately difficult ascent, following an abandoned dozer road until joining an existing track. Shortly after, from a logging edge, we can look down into the intricately segmented (now forested despite its name) Kaszáló valley and its branches. The realm of flat, wooded summits seems endless here, as does the long ascent before we reach the S sign following the watershed main ridge.

At a clearcut spot, we turn left onto the S signs and get an impression of the mountain range’s internal, winding, twisted area with broad arcs. The hiking trail stays for a longer stretch on the watershed ridge, made winding by arc-shaped, dark basins of valleys running back on both sides. To the left, waters drain via the Sajó across the Hangony, and to the right, through the Leleszi stream the Tarna collects runoff waters. The sunlit ridge is mainly characterized by oak, but older beech woods cover the soil rich in deadwood on the protected (mainly northern) slopes in darkness. The secluded small corners are refuges for wildlife seeking tranquility and undisturbed life; therefore, beside common large mammals in Hungary, some remarkable animals settled among these peaks, such as the sporadically occurring lynx and wolf, and the bear is also a regular guest (it may even be a permanent resident). These disturbance-sensitive species arrive from the Slovak Carpathians, as our northern neighbor hosts the largest mountainous area, the Low Tatras and its southern forested neighbor, home to a large population of carnivores, connected here to the Hungarian border region by a roughly continuous ecological "green corridor." This corridor allows species that keep their distance from humans to pass through otherwise cultivated and densely inhabited mountain basins, enriching the fauna of the North Hungarian Mountains with top predators. The extensive, uninhabited forest cover of the Vajdavár area primarily connects to and overlaps with the large carnivore population areas of Bükk and Mátra and also contacts the Börzsöny via the Cserhát forests to the west. Of course, smaller forest inhabitants enjoy the isolated habitat fragments and the peace of old forests here as well: the black stork and the peregrine falcon are not merely present but regularly breed in the area.

We climb up to Köte-bérc and begin to descend along a darkened, sometimes young-forested narrowing ridge section. We tread the route of the once "100 km following the Red Army" badge route—a propaganda pilgrimage path about which little is known except that delays and lack of commitment caused its announcement and completion to drag on for a long time. Passing by deteriorating pine forest patches and chaotic thickets, we arrive at the ruins of the former Palina forester's lodge, bordered by an asphalt exploration road. Not far from the crumbling buildings, in the marshy valley bottom fed by seepage springs, we find an orchard cleaned, reconstructed, and managed by the Bükk National Park Directorate. The former juniper pasture was planted with Jonathan apple and Besztercei plum trees on 14 hectares at the end of the 1920s; the produce was then transported to nearby markets; cattle and feed pigs also belonged to the farm. After WWII came land redistribution, and by the 1960s agricultural use ceased. The overgrown, partly reforested, ruined orchard was restored by the national park in the 2010s, saving species-rich grasslands and cultural-historical values.

In the partisans’ refuge

Our path leads right onto a shady leafy road, alongside which impassable, swampy alder groves appear—the aforementioned black stork's returning haunt in this lush wilderness. A clearing emerges to the left, and here we turn in this direction, switching to the P signs. On the narrow pasture strip leading up Teresznek valley stands a large game lookout; an old building marked on maps is no longer present. From the beautifully situated, isolated clearing, we step onto an old forest dozer road and climb along the stream ditch onto the hill ridge. We walk along the old partisan path whose huge, faded signs still appear on older tree trunks, and some of its metal plates resist time, rusted at the edges and sometimes grown into the trunk, wrinkled but still marking the way. This route was once designated in memory of the Hungarian partisan movement’s military operations.

On undulating terrain, under varied forest stands, wide transport roads lead, and in the Renget valley spring area we reach the now untraceable site of Járnokfői farmstead. Overgrown, patchy orchards and former wooded pastures recall the vanished mountain farming; further down were the Macskás and Kukó farmsteads, too. The scattered farmstead network in the Vajdavár valleys formed in the 19th century; their buildings initially served as accommodations for people watching the animals and later developed into fully-fledged farms. Many were used in the mountain range until the early to mid-20th century; after that some operated as lodges, and those still standing are mostly forestry buildings—some are inhabited sporadically. Macskástanya appears in WWII chronicles, but rather on the margins: it was where the gendarmes killed Márton Szőnyi, who had been a hunter-pilot captured by the Soviets, turned communist partisan, and in 1944 with his paratrooper unit landed near today’s Hangonyi Lake for a mission. It is uncertain if they intended to drop them here, but the action ended disastrously: the team scattered, and several hid on farmsteads (e.g., at Palina) for days, while the dispatched gendarmes captured or shot many (a few Soviet soldiers escaped). To avoid a death sentence awaited for partisans, Szőnyi hid in nearby mountain houses for weeks before meeting his fate at Macskástanya.

The saved wilderness

The path descends into a dim beech forest where markings are difficult to follow: first we cross a stream trench, then continue along the deepening stream bed’s left side on a path. The narrow trail increasingly follows the ditch carved into sandy bedrock from higher ground, and progress is occasionally obstructed by fallen trunks lying across the way—the soaked, soft soil lets a strong wind easily twist out trees. A dark, motionless, truly primeval forest depicts the Vajdavár area's habitat features. After crossing a dozer road, we descend to the stream via a steep, partly slipped embankment overgrown path on the right—we can choose the parallel bike track (which later merges with the marked trail) but due to fallen trees and dense vegetation, this might not be better. Below, the landscape of the Vizes valley evokes the mood of remote mountain wilds: there is no path on the muddy, green carpeted, muddy valley bottom, but we continue straight ahead alongside the watercourse! Here the stream trickles on sandy sediments, and after heavy rains cuts through it—where we cross, there is just a small waterfall as it resists with a hard rippled layer. Crawling through dense curtains of branches over lying trunks, it is hard to decide what is rarer here: hikers or dry trail surface.

Soon on our right emerges one of the most decorative habitats in the mountain range: the converging streams slow down and spread here, and in the trapped water a true swamp forest "bathes", with alder groves featuring catkins in places. These communities were once more widespread but largely eliminated during pasture creation and forest exploitation. Their formation is largely due to surface cover details: precipitation water swiftly drains through sand but accumulates in depressions raising the groundwater level (as seen earlier along the Hangony stream). In narrow depressions where streams have reached waterproof clay layers, and with little valley slope, driftwood and sediment washed away by rains have created stagnant water bogs. The sultry, humid "jungle" air then disappears, and we meander further on a wide forestry exploration road through oak forest. A hard, gray sandstone wall also appears, and finally we arrive at the wooded-screen-surrounded shore of Hangonyi Lake.

Lakeside idyll with partisan maneuvers

The sandy road hugs the shore, and to the right appears a fully equipped campsite around István-kút: fire pit, water block, and resting area are available on the clearing. According to tradition, the spring got its name because King Saint Stephen watered his horse from its water. On the walk we increasingly see the fishing lake established in 1960, lying in an idyllic environment enclosed by wooded hills, its surroundings reflected as rippling contours on the lake’s surface. This peaceful sight is almost a relief after the wildness of the Vizes and (named after its lower section) Vermes valleys, suitably closing our tour. Along the branching hiking trail, a memorial is also viewable, commemorating the parachute unit of Márton Szőnyi who landed here (then a lake-free environment) with his team.

Passing the valley dam, we walk out to the asphalt along a bike track connecting the lake and the main road, where the bus stop can be found to the right.